Besides, it’s so clear that the customers don’t want me anymore. They want her, and her ability to choose their perfect book to read. Who could blame them? If I was faced with deciding which one of us to connect with, I’d pick her over me, too.
But that doesn’t mean I have to stay. It doesn’t mean that at all.
“You’re right,” I admit to him. “I haven’t considered what I wanted for a long time.”
“Maybe it’s time you start.”
“Maybe so.”
“You look nervous. Would you like a dust rag?”
I bark a laugh. “You keep your house so clean that it’s hard to find anything worth dusting, but I’m okay. Just tired.”
Then he reaches toward me and I can feel it coming—a kiss. Devlin’s going to kiss me, even after I told him that I just want to be friends. How dare he?
But I would really, really like to kiss him.
What is wrong with me? We’re just friends and barely that.
Oh, who am I kidding? He’s becoming a friend, a really good one, and I remember what it’s like to be around him, how easily we interact. I never have to think of something to say or work at conversation. It’s just easy.
Not like with Storm.
Give yourself a break, Blair. You just met the man.
Yeah, but everything feels so forced.
Must give things time to progress. Storm’s clearly interested in me. He has to leave town for a few days, but he promised that when he returned, we’d go out again.
He’s checking all the boxes. Wants kids? Check. Good provider? Check. Handsome? Check.
And there will be more things checked off my list as we get to know one another. I can feel it.
But right now Devlin’s closing in as he reaches toward me. When he pulls back, he’s holding a hairbrush.
I exhale a breath that I didn’t know I was holding.
“Brush?”
“Sure.” I take it from him. “Thank y?—”
Before I can get the word out, a flash flares in my mind, followed by a collage of images that flip like flash cards in my head, moving in sequential order. It all happens so fast that I’m barely able to register exactly what they all mean, and they’re gone almost as quickly as they appear.
As the images fade, I’m able to sort it all out and put them together.
“Blair,” he says slowly, watching me intently, “did you just have?—”
“Yeah.” I touch my stomach, stabilizing myself because I’m rocking back and forth. My gaze cuts up to his. “Yeah, I just saw your vision. I know how to fix the womb.”
22
“Nana, I need you to stand still.”
My grandmother hovers in front of me, a skeptical look smeared across her face. She knows I’m up to something; she just doesn’t know what.
“Why?”
“I’m going to spray this potion on you, and it’ll make you invisible.”
